


Break Me Like a Promise

by the_painless_moustache



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst without a happy ending, Arguing, Canon Compliant, Cussing, Emotional pain, For the most part, I did my best, M/M, Sadness, Yelling, no happy ending, partly because they're Irish partly because I like cuss words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 22:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14411691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_painless_moustache/pseuds/the_painless_moustache
Summary: Sometimes things that were supposed to work out don't.orBressie doesn't go to Niall's first Dublin show, but he hears about it.





	Break Me Like a Promise

 "Hello?"

 Bressie's a little bitter at how uneasy Niall sounds. After all that they've been through, all _Niall_ has done, he doesn't think it's fair that he's the one who has to call him and Niall's the one who gets to sound broken up about it. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, because there's no point in getting worked up before he's even said a word to Niall. But then he'd already been worked up when he'd hit the call button, hadn't he?

 "Hey," he finally mumbles, and that seems to be all the more his voice box is willing to contribute. He stares up at his ceiling trying to make himself go numb, even as his years of training yell at him not to.

 He hears Niall shift on the other end of the line. It's quiet, so he must be back at his hotel room. Or wherever he's staying. Maybe he'd made the drive to Mullingar, popped over to Bobby's and is cooped up in his dusty twin bed. Maybe he's in that house—no. No, Bressie's more than positive he's not there. Too much is waiting on the other side of those doors.

 "You okay, Head?" Niall asks. It's the worst fucking question, and Bressie can tell by the tone of his voice he knows it. It's more courtesy making him ask than anything else, but Bressie's blood boils anyway.

 "No."

 Niall sighs. "If this is about the show—"

 "You're fucking right it's about the show." God, Bressie could kill him. _If this is about the show…_ as if Bressie was only conveniently breaking his seven-month-silence tonight. As if it's all some big coincidence. As if Bressie doesn't still have notifications on for him, like a masochist who enjoys the feeling of knives in his gut. "You shouldn't have said that. It was fucking _cruel_ to say that."

 Niall takes the punches silently. Bressie kind of wishes he could see his face but he knows it's better that he can't. Niall has a way of stonewalling himself in these situations. It's only ever made things worse.

 "'I'm home,'" Bressie goes on, quoting him meanly. "You're a fucking liar and you know it. I can't believe—and what if I'd come tonight, Niall? What if I'd shown up at your bloody show _which you invited me to_ and had to watch you lie like that in front of ten thousand people? I mean…" He laughs. He can't help it. It hurts too much and he hasn't let himself be angry yet and he doesn't cry when he's angry he just gets nasty.

 He should hang up the phone and let it go, but Niall interrupts that plan by saying "I wasn't lying."

 "Horseshit," Bressie snaps. "It wasn't even a year ago that you told me you didn't want this to be your fucking home."

 "Bressie—"

 "And then you go and move to LA and now you think you get to call this home?"

 "It _is_." Niall snaps.

 "Just because you own some goddamn property doesn't mean shit. You can tell your fans and the magazines whatever the hell you want, but don't expect me to buy into it, alright?"

 "I'm _not lying_."

 "Fuck off, Niall. Have a good fucking trip before you fuck off to wherever else you want to call 'home.'"

 He hangs up. He can't help it, he's too pissed to do anything else. Not that it matters, because Niall calls him back anyway and Bressie's a sucker for a good fight so he picks up.

 "You've got no right calling me a fucking liar," Niall says as soon as the line connects. God, it's all just the same. They're both just the fucking same. Fighting back and forth and hanging up and calling back and continuing like they haven't even stopped.

 It needs to stop.

 "I've got every right," Bressie sneers into the phone. "And as long as it's true I'll keep saying it."

 "I'm not a liar for calling this home, Bressie!" Niall yells. He's proper worked up now, probably pacing in his room. "Ireland _is_ home, and you won't take that from me. You took Mullingar but you can't take the fucking island."

 " _I took Mullingar?_ " Bressie has to laugh at that, but it's a vicious one that hurts his own throat probably more than it hurts Niall's ears. "You fucking _left_ it, Niall. Wasn't any taking involved. I was just the only one who stayed."

 "Oh, _fuck you_ ," Niall spits. It lands like cold acid on his ears. "You think you're so much better than me because, what, you _chose_ to stay? I chose to follow my fucking dream, Bressie. I'm sorry if that meant leaving but it doesn't mean I left _for good_."

 "This has _nothing_ to do with your music, and you goddamn well know it."

 "Then say what you really mean, Brez," Niall goads him. "If it's not about me travelling then what's the fucking problem?"

 "You know full well that the fucking problem is you're acting like a twat," Bressie snaps. It's not his best come-back but he's starting to see red so eloquence isn't high on his list of priorities.

 "Real fucking mature."

 "Like you have any right to talk to me about maturity, hiding out in your big LA house with whoever you've decided to fuck around on at the moment. Did you leave them, too, Niall? Are you finally as free as you always wanted?"

 There's a moment of harsh silence and then Niall spits "Fuck you, Breslin," and hangs up.

 Bressie throws his phone. It's been awhile since he's been angry enough to do that. He still only throws it at the end of the couch, watching it land with a very unsatisfying _thump_. He gets to his feet and stalks around the room, moving knick-knacks around until there's nothing left to rearrange and then he stomps out of the house.

 He has no idea where he's going but it doesn't matter because he doesn't get far anyway. Within a couple of blocks a car screeches to a halt beside him and Niall's coming out of it, looking ready for round three. Bressie squares himself up like Niall's going to hit him—he won't—and stares him down as he approaches.

 "You're a fucking piece of shit." Niall snaps.

 "Wouldn't be so pissed about it if it weren't true."

 Niall looks ready to take a swing at him, instead choosing to jab a finger in his face. "You want to hate me, Breslin, that's fucking _fine by me_ , but you don't get to act like you didn't have anything to do with this. If I left, it was because _you_ told me to."

 "Don't even fucking try to blame me."

"Give me a fucking break! You want to paint me as some kind of heartbreaker? Take a fucking look at yourself, at what _you_ fucking did. _You_ told me to go. You told me that. I remember it clear as fucking day. I asked if you wanted me to stay, if you wanted me to wait. _You_ said no."

 Bressie tears at his own hair. "You gave me a fucking ultimatum! And you fucking _knew_ I wouldn't make you give up your album, you _knew_. You set the whole fucking thing up—"

 "I'm not some criminal mastermind, Bressie, _Christ!_ "

 "You _wanted_ to leave, Niall, and you wanted my permission to do it! A fucking _excuse!_ And when I didn't give it to you, you made one up!"

 "You're _wrong_."

 "I was living in your fucking house, Niall! Of _course_ I wanted you to stay, but you weren't going to! You never wanted to! You don't even fucking know what _staying_ means!"

 "You're _wrong!_ " Niall shouts and then he breaks.

 Bressie can really only stare at it happens. All of Niall's anger just crumbles and tears roll down his cheeks in ugly, heaving sobs as he doubles over like Bressie's just gutted him. A few moments later he has Niall in his arms, head tucked into his chest and he's staring at the sky hoping not to cry, too, because that's all he needs. The two of them at ass-o-clock in the morning wailing in the middle of his street.

 The car is still idling a few feet away from them, a shadowy figure—security, probably—still in the driver's seat. He feels his cheeks heat up in shame. There's a certain clarity that comes at the end of an argument, especially when that argument's been witnessed by someone else. He hugs Niall tighter as the reality of all he's said rolls over him and feels the last pieces of his heart break apart. "I know I am," Bressie finally says to him, turning his face down into his hair. Niall can't respond yet but he sinks his fingers into Bressie's shirt and keeps him close.

 A few minutes later Niall's shaking his head miserably. "All I ever tried to do was love you." He hiccups a tiny laugh. "Couldn't even fucking do _that_ right, huh?"

 Bressie holds him tighter. "Little, you did just fine. Better than I ever did for you."

 "I wanted…" He takes a deep breath, pushing himself out of Bressie's arms and wiping at his face despite the fact he's still shaking. "I wanted you to come tonight, to hear me say that because—because I wanted you to know I meant it. And I wanted it to hurt." Niall's face crumples before he can get his hands over it. "I wanted it to hurt so you'd know that it hurt me when you didn't ask me to stay."

 Bressie grabs his wrists and pulls his hands off his face, pulling him forward again so he can rest his head on the top of his. He doesn't know what to say, or at least how to say it. His chest aches and his eyes burn and all he wants is for Niall to come back to his so they can pretend none of this is the way it is. That neither of them fucked this up the way they did.

 "Do you remember," he whispers instead "When you bought that place? What you said to me?" Niall shakes his head but Bressie's pretty sure it's not because he doesn't remember. "You said you wanted something permanent. After everything you'd been through…" Bressie breathes out slowly. "I wanted to be that for you so badly, Niall. And when you decided you weren't ready for it, I couldn't see passed my own fucking nose to realize you weren't doing it on purpose."

 "I thought I was," Niall whimpers. "I thought I was, Bressie, I—I wanted to be."

 "I know." Bressie kisses his head. "I know you did, Little. I wanted you to be, too."

 Niall turns his face up then, jaw clenched to keep his mouth from wobbling even though it still does. "I still love you, Bressie."

 Bressie's heart feels like it shrivels inside him. All those little broken pieces dry up and leave him feeling empty with the withered realization that no matter what they say tonight it's not going to change anything. It's not going to change the things they want or the things they need. It's not going to stop hurting just because they both understand. He takes Niall's face in his hands and kisses him, feels the way his breath shakes on his own mouth. He pulls back with his eyes closed because he doesn't know if he can handle looking. "I still love you, too," he admits.

 There's a thousand things left for them to say to each other but Bressie feels Niall's exhaustion crash down on him. Exhaustion from the show, but mostly exhaustion from this. From them. He turns up to kiss his forehead and then lets him go and steps back. Niall blinks at him dully for a minute before turning around. The stranger in the car doesn't so much as twitch in Bressie's direction when Niall gets in, so he doesn't feel all that embarrassed in watching them drive away.

 He walks back to the house and sits himself on the couch, staring the floor and feeling all sorts of things roll over him. In the corner of his eye he can see his phone and even though he wishes it would, it doesn't ring again. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry not sorry!  
> As always, if you think I missed tags or a typo go ahead and lemme know!  
> Here's my [tumblr](http://thepainlessmoustache.tumblr.com/)!


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